


In which Steve is dying and the reason is soooo cliché...

by jamesoi15



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, M/M, PWP, So many cliches, cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesoi15/pseuds/jamesoi15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Check the title. Porn with Plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Steve is dying and the reason is soooo cliché...

“I have several announcements,” Steve begins, his voice ringing out over the chatter from the crowd. He has a look of intense concentration on his face as everyone quiets and turns their attention to him. Tony, Bruce, Natasha and Clint smile and wave from the edge of the crowd. “The first is that we have reached our fundraising goal thanks to all your generous donations. The STARK Relief Foundation will continue to help millions across the globe as a result of your support tonight and we thank you.”

The crowd applauds and Steve takes the opportunity to take a gulp of water from the glass placed conveniently near his wrist. “If you’re wondering why I’m up here speaking instead of Ms. Potts or Mr. Stark himself, it’s because I asked for this opportunity, which brings me to my second announcement: I will be stepping down from my place with the Avengers to help spearhead the efforts of the SRF.” Gasps wash over Steve like a gentle wave, but he winces at the sound of a glass shattering, knowing without having to look that it slipped from Tony’s numb fingers. 

“I want to help where I can,” Steve continues resolutely. “The Avengers have grown into a very cohesive and strong unit which doesn’t need an old man like me holding them back.” Here, Steve gives a small smile which most of the crowd returns except for four shocked souls at the back. “This is a personal decision that I’m sure you’ll all understand. Which brings me to my third announcement: I will be passing on the official title of Captain America. I won’t say to whom yet, for their privacy, but it’s a necessary change. This and all of the changes in my life aren’t taking place immediately. My fourth announcement: everything is going to change at the end of the summer. So all you journalists out there have about a month to get your interviews scheduled. That brings me to my final announcement: once my life changes, I will be withdrawing from the public eye. I ask that the press respect my need for privacy in order to best serve this wonderful foundation. I will not be giving interviews tonight or answering any questions, so please direct all your inquiries to my publicist, Darcy.” Steve gestures to the smiling woman to his right. “Thank you all and please enjoy the rest of the evening.” 

He steps down from the podium to a mixture of applause, indignant shouts and cheers, making his way carefully to the back of the crowd, sidestepping ravenous members of the press and teary eyed fans. Steve shrugs when he gets up to the others. Bruce gives him a sad, knowing smile and claps him on the back. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Clint asks, elbowing him playfully.

“Woulda caved. You would’ve talked me out of it.”

“Damn right, we would’ve!” Clint tries to laugh, but it comes out hollow and a little broken.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Fury.” Natasha says evenly. Steve nods. “Not here.” She loops her arm over his and leans up smoothly to kiss his cheek. She whispers into his ear, “Eyes and ears everywhere.” She turns towards the door, taking Steve with her. “I’m tired boys, let’s go home.” No one argues with her.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asks, his voice a fragile, soft sound in the loud room.

“Probably at the bottom of a bottle,” Clint offers. “He ran out after you said you were leaving.” Steve nods, his brows furrowing in concern. 

They make their way back to the tower quickly. Natasha is the first out of the elevator, catching the empty champagne bottle that flew at the open doors. 

Clint is next out, he swats away another bottle and snaps, “Bruce is in there damn it! Stop throwing shit!” 

Bruce steps out carefully, defending himself, “I’m fine. An empty bottle isn’t going to turn me green.” All the same, he moves far out of the line of fire. Steve is last out of the elevator, but he does nothing to block the full bottle of champagne that hits his chest and crashes against the floor, foaming everywhere. 

“ASSHOLE!” Tony screams from the floor between the barstools. 

“I know, I—“ Steve is cut off by a glass flying by his head.

“TRAITOR!”

“Tony, please, I—“ a decanter skims his arm and lands on the carpet in one piece.

“GOD DAMN, YOU, YOU DAMN, YOU FUCKING, MOTHER, YOU YOU—“ Tony just screams at him. 

“I don’t have a choice, Tony!” Steve shouts.

“OF COURSE YOU HAVE A CHOICE, YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE YOU’RE GOD DAMN AMERICA!” Tony cries.

“I’M DYING, TONY!” 

Silence strikes like lightning and all at once, they stand in perfect stillness. After a moment, Tony opens up, his voice sounding like sorrow dragged on broken glass, “How?”

Steve sighs and drops onto the arm of the sofa next to him. “The serum. It’s wearing off. Doc says I’ve got maybe six months. One month ‘til I don’t really look like this anymore. I can’t be seen like that. It’s bad for the people. I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s gotta be some solution though, right?” Clint pipes up. Steve shakes his head sadly.

Bruce speaks softly then, “We don’t understand what was in the serum that Erskine used to make Steve. So we don’t understand his anatomy. So we can’t figure out how to save him. He’s deteriorating too fast for us to figure it out.”

“How long have you even been trying?” Tony snaps.

“A year.” Steve says flatly.

“A YEAR?!” Tony shouts. 

“That’s impossible,” Clint argues, “I mean, you just woke up like two years ago! Besides, we would have noticed something was up!”

“Why do you think I’ve been training so hard?” Steve mumbles.

“You always train hard.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “It is what it is. Serum’s been wearing off little by little. At first it didn’t seem like anything to worry about, but the more that’s gone, the faster it goes and now it’s too late.”  
No one moves. No one speaks. What is there to say? Eventually Tony shifts in his drunkenness, trying to lift himself off the floor and failing miserably. No one helps at first, still stunned. Tony puts his slippery hand on the seat cushion of the nearest barstool and tries to heave himself up, but he slips and his hand lands on the nearest shard of glass. He laughs at his bleeding hand and Steve winces.  
“Come on, Tony.” Steve steps over and grabs Tony under the armpits, hoisting him up.

“No, I’m fine, really,” Tony protests, but Steve doesn’t listen. He tries walking at first with Tony’s arm slung around his shoulders, but Tony isn’t really walking and his feet are getting caught on the carpet. 

“Hold on,” Steve grunts and bends down to scoop Tony up in his arms. It’s just easier to carry him this way. Tony whines faintly, but Steve ignores him. “Don’t be a baby,” he says softly, but it’s too sad to sound admonishing.

“JARVIS, get the glass,” Tony calls out weakly.

“Yes, sir.”

Steve looks back over his shoulder at Natasha, Bruce and Clint. “I’ll clean him up. You guys go to bed. See you tomorrow.” Then he soldiers off to Tony’s room. 

He sits Tony on the counter in the bathroom next to the sink, his head leaning up against the mirror. He takes his hand carefully and picks out the shards of glass in the wound. He puts Tony’s hand in the sink and runs some cool water, splashing it over his hand to clear away the excess blood. The actual cut isn’t so bad it turns out. Won’t need stitches. Might leave a little scar. Steve bandages Tony’s hand carefully and tries to ignore the silent tears slipping down Tony’s face the whole time. 

“Do you need help getting to bed?” He asks softly, looking at Tony’s dresser. He doesn’t get a response, so he goes and pulls out some soft drawstring bottoms and a white cotton t-shirt he’d seen Tony wake up in before. He puts them on the bed and then gets Tony from the bathroom. He undresses Tony quietly, murmuring only now and again for Tony to put his arms up or step into something. Tony just cries. Steve pushes him gently into the bed and draws the covers up around him. 

“It’ll be ok,” Steve says, but only because he doesn’t know what else to say. And then Tony breaks and he isn’t crying silently anymore, he’s sobbing into his mattress, curling up in on himself like a wounded animal. Steve instinctively climbs into bed next to him and hugs him, making shushing noises and rubbing soothing tracks up and down his arms. Eventually Tony falls asleep, exhausted from crying. Steve backs off the bed as gently as possible and leaves, telling himself firmly he cannot stay under any circumstances.

The next morning, Steve gets up and runs like usual. He sets a brutal pace, as if trying to convince himself he can outrun the serum. But at the end of the run, his lungs are on fire and his legs ache and he can feel his old, asthmatic self peeking out from inside. He returns to the tower more discouraged than ever. He showers and makes his way to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. The others usually sleep in and the idea of eating alone never bothered him before. But today, everyone is waiting for him in the kitchen, sitting around the island nursing mugs of coffee and it eases some of the tension in his gut. “You’re all up early,” Steve comments lightly, smiling earnestly, if not brightly.

“Tony has a plan.” Natasha responds, staring into her coffee. “You know we’ve gone insane when we’re listening to Stark.”

“All right,” Steve shrugs, pulling eggs and ham out of the fridge. “What’s the plan for?” He grabs a skillet off the rack above the stove and sets it on the range to heat up while he starts tearing up strips of deli ham.

“You said the serum’s been wearing off for about a year at an exponential rate. Well what happened a year ago that changed things?” Tony’s voice is almost back to normal from last night, but something is lingering in the back of his throat that makes Steve’s gut twist.

“I don’t know, Tony, I’ve just been living my life.”

“Yeah well, I want you to keep living it.”

Steve breaks an egg on the counter and curses. “So do I.” He throws away the crushed egg in his hand and wipes up the mess. “But it’s not like I have a time machine where I can go back and watch myself for any tiny change in behavior.”

“Ok you’re right, you don’t have a time machine, but, we do have something kind of similar.” Tony takes a large gulp of his coffee.

“What?” Steve challenges.

“JARVIS.” Tony smiles arrogantly. “He records everything that happens within Stark facilities. So anything you did on our jets, anything you did here, anything you did while I was fighting next to you, he’ll have record of it. We can check the tape of your life and figure out what changed.”

“Tony,” Steve sighs. “I don’t know. Doesn’t this seem a little…” the pan sizzles as Steve puts in butter and a large amount of shredded ham, “a little far-fetched?”

“Scientific discovery is all about observation!” Tony insists.

“It’s the only thing we’ve got,” Bruce admits quietly.

“It’s at least worth a shot,” Clint adds.

“Come on, it’ll work!” Tony argues.

Steve cracks his neck and adds his eggs to the pan. He turns over his shoulder to glance at the odd group. He gives them a tight-lipped smile and turns back to his breakfast. “All right.” 

“JARVIS, load all of Steve’s activity feed from the past year and a half!”

“Year and a half?” Steve makes a puzzled face as he scrambles his eggs.

“We need a controlled sample,” Tony explains as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Steve smiles and nods. “Of course.”

“Bruce is gunna help compile the data. I’ll be on guard for the tech, Barton and Romanov—you guys just do what you do.”

“Masters of observation right here,” Clint says cheekily. Natasha just continues staring into her mug.

Steve plates his eggs and turns to join them at the island. “No, no no!” Tony protests and Steve freezes with his plate inches above the table. “No time to sit here! Let’s go to the living room—JARVIS can put everything up on the big screen right now.”

“Files are all ready for review, sir,” JARVIS chimes in. 

Steve sighs and stands up straight again. “All right, let’s go.”

They all move into the living room and take places around the plasma screen. Bruce produces some paper and pens for himself and Tony.

“JARVIS, roll the tape.” 

And then they are all looking back in time. Steve is on screen in his star spangled outfit, they’re on the Quinjet and he and Tony are almost chest to chest.

_“Put on the suit.”_

_“I’m starting to want you to make me.”_

“JARVIS, this can’t be right,” Tony objects. “I said a year and a half ago!”

“The date is correct sir, one point five years ago from today, you and Mr. Rogers became formally acquainted.”

“Funny how time does that,” Steve murmurs. 

Tony snaps his gaze to him. “Does what?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. Messes with you, I guess. It all seems different in your head and then…” he trails off and turns back to the screen. “Let’s just keep watching.”

Steve has been pretty easily tracked by JARVIS. He and Tony were almost always together and, if they weren’t, he was on the Quinjet. There were some times when JARVIS didn’t have anything and Steve fills those in. They make it through six months pretty easily at first. The whole battle in New York took up the most time, after that Steve mostly just trained and worked when called. 

“This is it,” Tony says seriously. “We’re in the last days of that year.”

“Tony, nothing’s going on though,” Steve points out.

“There has to be something!” Tony insists.

“I’m telling you Tony, it’s nothing. I’ll move into the tower with everybody else, we’ll keep searching for the Tesseract, I’ll take a hit in Belgium, and by then I’m already deteriorating and that’s when the SHIELD doctors finally notice.” 

Tony chews his lip nervously. “Then it has to happen either when you move into the tower or when we’re searching for the Tesseract.”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “Tony, you might not find anything. I’m a failed lab experiment. That’s all.”

“How can you say that?” Tony gapes at him.

“It’s true! You said it yourself, everything special about me came out of a bottle.” Steve doesn’t sound bitter about it and Tony’s face burns red.

“I was being an asshole! I do that all the time! Why would you listen to me?!” Tony barks.

Steve’s hands close into fists, his knuckles turning white with frustration. “Damn it, Tony, I’m just expired. Like old pills or whatever. There’s no cure, just deal with it.”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I-“ Tony cuts himself off. 

“What?” Steve prompts.

“We’re a team! You can’t just give up and leave.”

“Tony,” Steve softens, “I know that you’re upset, it’s ok to be sad—“

“I’m not—what are you—whatever, look, Steve, of course I’m upset, I’d be upset if anyone on our team was DYING. You’re not going down without a fight, I won’t let you.”

“So this is for the sake of the team?” Steve searches Tony’s face for something, but he isn’t sure what. 

Tony just stares back blankly. “Of course it is.”

“Ok.” Steve agrees quietly. “I’m gunna go get more food. You can keep watching without me, I don’t think I’m much help anyway.” And then Steve is gone, making noise in the kitchen and they’re all sitting in awkward silence. 

“Didn’t know you cared so much about the team, Stark,” Natasha comments dryly.

“I’m not heartless.” Tony taps his arc reactor for effect. “Of course I care.”

“Yeah, I mean the team is great,” Clint adds cheekily, “so chill, so fun to be around, such a great ass.”

“Yeah exactly,” Tony agrees absently, scratching away at his notes.

“And if the team doesn’t make it, then you’ll never get a chance to say how much you love the team,” Bruce says, putting his hand over Tony’s notes to force him to look up.

“What?” Tony looks back at him with a half confused, half angry expression.

“Come on, Tony. It’s ok. We get it.” Bruce pats Tony’s knee and Tony jerks away.

“Get what? There’s nothing to get? What, you guys don’t want to help Cap? You don’t care that he’s going to…” Tony swallows the word.

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Clint argues. “It’s just… You and Steve, you’ve always been… I don’t know—“

“Intense,” Natasha supplies.

“Yeah, intense,” Clint agrees. “And like, we want to help him, sure. But we’re not blind, Stark. You can’t stand the idea of living in a world without him.”

“So what?” Tony snaps defensively.

“So maybe you should tell him how you feel,” Bruce says.

“I have. He knows I want him to live, he knows I care about the team.”

They all groan at Tony. “You’re so frustrating!” Clint complains.

“What’s your problem?!” Tony yells.

“You’re fucking in love with Steve and you can’t just admit it!” Clint yells back.

In the kitchen, something crashes and they all just stare at each other in the silence that follows. Steve pops his head out from the alcove and holds up a pot with a lid. “Sorry, this just slipped… Nothing’s broken.”

They all stare at him blankly. Steve coughs and moves back into the kitchen. Tony glares at Clint. “I am not in love with him,” he whispers furiously. Clint gives him a dubious stare and Tony leaves the living room in a huff. 

Steve has some sandwiches put together in front of him on the island and he’s just staring at them when Tony comes near. “Clint’s an ass,” Tony says quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve picks at the crust of one of his sandwiches.

“I’m…” Tony coughs and rubs his arc reactor absently. “Uhh, well, sorry if he made you uncomfortable.” 

Steve can’t help but smile at how uncomfortable Tony is when he tries to apologize. He shakes his head and picks up one of his sandwiches. “He didn’t. Don’t worry. I know you don’t think of me that way.” Steve takes a large bite out of his sandwich finally and Tony seems to relax minutely.

“Right, yeah. We’re friends. It would be weird.”

“So weird,” Steve says around a mouthful of sandwich and Tony makes a face at him.

“You have no manners.”

“Neither do you.”

They smile at each other and for a second everything feels good and right and special. And then Natasha is coming up to them and Steve is focusing on his sandwich and Tony is picking at his jeans and it’s awkward again. “I think we got something,” she says, “Bruce wants to run another scan. This time of just your brain.”

Steve furrows his brows. “But the problem is in my cell tissue, not my brain, my mind is perfectly fine.”

“We have to be exhaustive.” Natasha replies simply and Steve sighs, knowing that arguing with her would be pointless and only lead to a bigger argument with Tony which he definitely doesn’t want. 

“Ok. When? Where?” Steve starts in on a second sandwich.

“Bruce’s lab. Half hour.” Natasha slips away from the kitchen then and it’s just Tony and Steve again.

“Why didn’t anybody do brain scans already?” Tony grumbles.

“It just seems like a waste of time. I mean, like I said, the problem is with my cells, not my brain.” Steve shrugs. “I don’t really understand most of what they say to me anyway, so I’m not really in a position to question it.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice before now.”

Steve looks up at Tony who seems to be studying the countertop. “Hey,” he says and reaches out to place a consoling hand on Tony’s shoulder, “I was hiding it.”

“But I should’ve seen it anyway.”

“How?”

Tony just shakes his head and shrugs and Steve takes it as a sign to remove his hand. Steve picks at the last sandwich, not really hungry anymore. There’s so much he wants to say, a million questions he has, but he can’t figure out how to make his voice work, so he just continues picking off little bits of crust. Eventually Tony clears his throat and Steve looks up, hopeful.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for… for last night.” Tony shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve responds quietly.

“I was just so drunk, you know. Barely remember anything.” Tony runs a hand through his hair, a gesture Steve’s never seen before. Tony always likes his hair a certain way. As if sensing Steve’s eyes on him, Tony immediately fixes his hair and folds his hand on the counter. 

“Yeah… It’s fine.” Steve says quietly. “You want this?” He offers Tony the last sandwich and Tony stares at it for a second.

“You aren’t hungry?”

Steve shakes his head sadly. “Yeah I guess not.”

“Steve,” Tony’s voice breaks on his name and he coughs to hide it, but Steve already feels blood rushing to his face. “Must have something in my throat. I just wanted to say that I know I’m focused on beating this, but if there’s anything you want to do… like… I mean before…” Tony’s stumbling over his words and it isn’t like him and Steve hates hearing it so he just waves Tony off.

“I’ll let you know. For now I’m gunna head down to Bruce’s lab. Might as well be early. See you down there?”

Tony nods, his throat dry and tight. “Yeah,” he croaks out and Steve gives a quick nod before heading off. 

In the lab, Steve can’t help but notice how different Bruce is from Tony. How they work in their space. Bruce is clean, his entire lab is free of garbage or old food or any of the myriad of things that usually clutter up Tony’s workshop. Bruce moves from screen to screen in a timely fashion, the same way that one might close a book and open another, not like Tony who jumps from screen to screen like a rabbit, never focusing too long on one thing. Bruce is also aware of Steve’s presence from the minute he walks in.

“Take a seat here,” Bruce says gesturing to the white medical apparatus next to him. As Steve sits down in it, he wonders absently why everything medical is always white. 

“Even from my perspective, brain scans seem pointless. But Natasha has a theory,” Bruce says carefully, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Oh? She said ‘we’ before. I assumed—“

“It’s mostly her. I’m not sure if I believe her, but I’m willing to go along. That said, I’m not very good at manipulation.” Bruce stops typing and turns toward Steve with a serious expression. “I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be honest?”

“Are you in love with Tony?”

The question hangs in the air for awhile, a non sequitur and at the same time totally overdue. Steve opens his mouth to respond, but when he can’t think of what to say, he closes it again. 

“You are, aren’t you?” It’s not really a question, Bruce can tell just from Steve’s silence. 

“I didn’t think it was affecting the team at all, I thought I was doing a good job of keeping myself in check,” Steve says finally, the words feeling awkward even as he says them.

“Did you ever stop to wonder if maybe he feels the same way?” Bruce asks exasperatedly.

“He said he doesn’t,” Steve points out flatly.

“Tony lies all the time—“

“Not about important things—“

“ESPECIALLY about important things!”

“Not to me.” Steve’s voice is so firm, Bruce sits back in his chair almost resigned.

Finally, Bruce speaks. “Well now that if you’ve got limited time left… What is there to lose?”

Steve’s face heats with anger and he grinds his teeth to keep from exploding. “I’m not going to use Tony like that. Nobody wants to refuse a dying man, it wouldn’t be fair. He’d say whatever I wanted him to say and then I’d be gone and it wouldn’t be fair. That’s not how I operate.”

Bruce sighs. “I didn’t mean—“

“Well think about it some more. Because for all that knowledge you seem to have that I may never grasp, it looks like you missed out on some bigger lessons.” Steve grips the arm rests and reins in his anger. “Are we going to do the brain scan?”

Bruce nods. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Bruce,” Steve says earnestly and it is ok. Bruce nods and takes a deep breath and then fits Steve with a little metal headband. 

“This will only take a second,” he says softly, his concentration obviously on the screen and not on Steve.

Tony comes out of the elevator then and joins Bruce at the computer, looking over his shoulder. “Started the party without me?” he jokes to no one in particular. No one responds. Steve is too tense, Bruce is too focused. After a few moments, an images of Steve’s brain start to appear on the screen. 

“There’s something wrong with your tech, Banner,” Tony says immediately.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“That can’t be right.”

“It is—this is right—I just can’t be sure if it means—“

“Of course it means that, but why—“

Steve cuts in, annoyed, “Does someone want to fill me in on any of this or are you just going to stand there babbling to each other?”

“Wait until the images have fully loaded,” Tony snaps, “so feisty over there, I’d almost believe you’re faking it.” Steve feels his anger prickling at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t respond. Bruce doesn’t need provocation and Tony’s joking is probably helping keep the guy calm. After what feels like an eternity, the images are fully loaded on the screen and Bruce and Tony are staring at them wide eyed.

“Well?” Steve prompts.

Bruce turns to him, crazed. “We have to tell him! You have to tell him! This is—it’s—“

“What does the scan show?” Steve barks.

“Your hippocampus,” Tony butts in, “it’s tiny—like, really really tiny, Rogers!”

“So what?” Steve grinds out. “Translate.”

“Well, usually, the shrinking of a person’s hippocampus can be indicative of many things,” Bruce starts, but Tony shakes his head and puts a hand on Bruce’s shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, not like this. There’s only one explanation.”

“What?” Steve snaps, using all his effort not to scream.

“You’re depressed.” Bruce says finally.

“I don’t get it though—“ Tony is rambling, “How can you be depressed?! You’re Captain America, you’re a beacon of positivity and joy wherever you go!”

“Steve,” Bruce says gently, “I think I understand everything now. You’re very depressed and have been for a long time. If your hippocampus gets too small, the tissue starts to die. Your body naturally heals and so has devoted all its energy to rebuilding your hippocampus, but because you are depressed and you aren’t producing the hormones necessary, all the energy is wasted and your body just keeps going down. It’s like your body is flushing the serum out, like you’re…”

“I’m killing myself,” Steve finishes and Bruce winces. “I’m killing myself?”

“I mean, it’s not intentional like that, Steve. You’re just so unhappy… your body is kind of… giving up.”

“So…” Steve sucks in a steadying breath before continuing. “You mean, if I don’t want to die, all I have to do is not be depressed anymore?”

Bruce sighs heavily and folds his hands nervously. “It’s not that simple. You didn’t choose to be depressed, you can’t exactly choose to not be depressed. I can try putting you on some medication that might help, but at the doses I’d have to give you because of your metabolism, I don’t know if they’ll do more harm than good. The best way to recover I guess would be with a relatively low dose for you and then natural rehabilitation. But if the source of your depression is what I think it is, then you can’t recover here.”

Tony pipes up then, “What?! What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t he recover here, around his friends?!”

Bruce’s knuckles are turning white with nerves. “See? You have to tell him. It isn’t fair, maybe, but he needs to know now.” Steve nods sadly and realizes, the scanner is still on his head. He reaches up and pulls it off, Bruce takes it from him and sets it down. “Just get it over with quick,” Bruce suggests and Steve snorts.

“What?” Tony keeps asking. “Get what over with?”

Steve turns to go and gestures for Tony to follow. “Come on. I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Oh, Cap, no need to be dramatic,” Tony jokes, but follows him anyway and Steve doesn’t bother getting annoyed at his insensitivity.

“Let’s go to my room,” Steve says, thinking, ‘that way you can leave after and I don’t have to wait to be upset.’

Steve’s room is exactly as it was when he first moved in. He hasn’t added any visible personal possessions at all. It makes Tony shiver seeing how Steve could leave tomorrow and it would be like he was never even there. Steve sits on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Tony asks quietly.

“I’m in love with you.” Steve blurts. He looks up at Tony who is standing there with a confused expression and he groans. “I’m sorry. I thought I was hiding it well, I thought everything was ok. But it’s been difficult, Tony, I won’t lie to you. I guess it’s been eating at me more than I realized. But look, I can figure this out. I can leave, take some time away, and with Bruce’s help, I’m sure I’ll get over this and I’ll be fine and then we can be friends again.”

“You’re in love with me?” Tony’s voice is full of something Steve can’t identify and it makes his gut clench wondering if Tony is sick with him.

“Yeah,” he groans. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“Why me?”

Steve laughs then, a horrible grating laugh. “I know right? Why you?! You’re intolerable, you never follow orders, you always make the worst jokes at the least appropriate times and you’re obsessive and rude and just, so infuriating all the time, but God it all just makes you perfect, the way that you move in your workshop and the way you always find a solution for something and the way you give things 100% even if it kills you and the way your hair sticks up in the morning, and everything about you it’s so perfect and I hate myself for ruining our friendship and I’m sorry, Tony, god I’m so sorry.”

And Steve doesn’t know when he started crying, but he feels Tony’s fingers on his cheek, wiping away hot tears and he blinks in confusion because he didn’t even notice Tony moving and suddenly he’s right there, really close and looking at Steve in a way that he’s too scared to interpret.

“I know you’re not in love with me,” Steve chokes out, barely above a whisper. “We’re friends. It would be weird.” And their words from earlier are like knives now in his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“What?” Steve blinks away more tears, trying to get a clearer picture of Tony and when he looks up, Tony’s face is getting so close, he doesn’t have time to pull away before Tony’s mouth crashes into his and he is too stunned at first, confused, like they took a wrong turn because why else would Tony be kissing him, but then Tony’s nibbling on his lower lip and Steve gasps and suddenly doesn’t care why it’s happening as long as it doesn’t stop. Tony takes the opportunity to plunder Steve’s mouth with his tongue and Steve groans loudly, his arms coming up to touch Tony. He reaches for Tony’s shoulders, pulling him down and they land back on the bed in a tumble of limbs, still kissing desperately. Tony has Steve’s face in both hands, completely controlling the kiss and Steve lets him, completely overwhelmed by the sensation. Tony kisses his jaw and his neck and Steve gasps, arching up into the touch. 

“Tony,” Steve pants, “I—I can’t—“

“Shhh.” Tony covers Steve’s mouth with his own to quiet him. “Just let me.” And Steve can only nod as Tony’s hands are at his zipper and he’s inching down the zip and setting his cock free. Steve groans as the cool air hits his overheated skin and Tony’s fingers are sliding up under his shirt, his fingers tracing hot patterns over his stomach. And then Tony has his hand wrapped around the base of Steve’s cock and is sliding his mouth over the head and Steve can’t even breathe because it feels too intense and his chest feels too full and then Tony sucks in so much of his length that all of Steve’s breath leaves him at once and he’s lightheaded and it feels like Tony is sucking the life out of him. 

“Oh god,” Steve moans, his eyes rolling back in his head and he feels Tony chuckle around him, sending tiny vibrations up along his cock and making his hips jerk. “Sorry,” he pants immediately. Tony doesn’t respond, doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, he just puts his hands on Steve’s hips to hold him in place and starts sucking with even more enthusiasm.

“Tony, please,” Steve pants. “I’m not gunna last–I want,”

Tony resurfaces, breathing deeply, mouth swollen and meets Steve’s gaze. “What do you want?”

Steve pulls Tony up and kisses him fiercely, plundering his mouth and digging his fingertips into Tony’s arms as if to anchor himself. “I want to fuck you,” he says breathlessly, his voice low and full of promises. Tony smiles against his lips and kisses him again. Steve speaks against Tony’s mouth, “Please, Tony, I need to be inside you, fuck, I want you so badly.” 

Steve grinds their hips together and Tony moans loudly. “There’s lube in my nightstand.”

Steve chuckles, “Of course there is,” he says, but he doesn’t move, just keeps kissing Tony and rubbing against him, drinking in the sounds he makes every time their erections touch.

“Are you going to get it?” Tony pants. “Or are you enjoying reducing me to a horny teen, ready to come just from this?”

Steve chuckles. “I’ll get it, your body is just so delicious, I don’t want to move.” Steve nibbles on Tony’s bottom lip and swivels his hips again and Tony has to admit, he doesn’t really want to stop either. But then Steve shifts and Tony moves off of him so he can actually move. Tony shucks his pants and shirt while Steve grabs the lube from the top drawer. He turns back and is stunned by the sight of Tony, naked and flushed and leaning back against the pillows, preparing to be fucked. He bites his lip hard to take the edge off and Tony smirks.

“Enjoying the view?”

Steve blushes slightly, but just nods. “Fuck yes. Here,” he tosses the lube to Tony. “Start getting yourself ready.” 

Steve gets up and steps out of his pants and takes off his shirt and the undressing feels like it takes forever when he’s gotta watch Tony working a slick finger into himself. He moves quickly, taking the lube and spreading a liberal amount over his fingers and then swatting Tony’s hand out of the way. “Let me,” he says and slips two fingers in. 

Tony groans at the feeling of Steve’s fingers inside him, bigger and hotter and just so much better than his own. He arches into the touch and moans loudly as Steve brushes his prostate. “Please,” Tony begs. “Please please please.”

“Please what?” Steve taunts.

“Please, mmph, more,” Tony asks and Steve complies because how can he refuse when Tony looks like he does and is grinding against his fingers already. 

Steve uses his other hand to stroke himself lazily and leans down to kiss Tony’s inner thighs. Tony trembles under his touches and makes all kinds of obscene noises and Steve thinks that this could be enough, but it isn’t because he needs to be inside him, he needs to know what that’s like. And then Tony is begging him again for more and Steve pulls his fingers away, quickly slathers on a healthy amount of lube and positions himself at Tony’s entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Tony groans, “I’ve been ready, fuck, please, please fuck me!”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat hearing Tony moaning and begging and he uses every ounce of his self control to ease himself in slowly and carefully. He feels Tony’s body pushing back against him, tight and unforgiving until he’s fully sheathed. He stills then, waiting for Tony to relax around him, to adjust to the intrusion. He leans down and places soft kisses on Tony’s forehead, his cheeks, his collarbone until Tony shifts experimentally and all his breath leaves him. He grips Tony’s hips like a lifeline, hard enough to bruise.

Tony turns his head and kisses Steve’s neck and his jaw and their mouths connect finally and it feels so good and Tony finally says, “Move, I’m ready, fuck me, please, Steve, oh fuck, please, fuck me,” and Steve just barely manages not to come at that. He eases out and slams back in, causing Tony to shout with pleasure and before Tony can recover, he’s doing it again, setting a brutal pace and fucking Tony into his mattress. 

Tony buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, placing errant kisses on his collarbone and his chest. Steve moves one hand from Tony’s hip to stabilize himself and then fucks him even harder, driving in thrusts that feel so rough and good, Tony can barely breathe through the constant stream of moans being ripped out of him. His lungs are sore and his whole body burns and even so, his legs come up to encircle Steve’s hips, driving him even deeper. 

Steve groans then, like Tony, completely unable to stop himself from voicing his pleasure which feels already like it’s too much, but neither of them can stop. Their thrusts fall out of rhythm, frantic and desperate and Tony keens, “Ohhh fuck, oh fuck, oh god, fuck, oh my god, Steve, I’m gunna–”

“I know,” Steve grits out, “me too. Just do it, let go, oh fuck, please.”

And hearing Steve swear like that, his breath hot against Tony’s ear, and feeling the rumble of his moans deep in his chest makes everything in Tony tense up. Their hips slam together relentlessly and Tony makes it only another few seconds before he climaxes, shooting hot come across both their bodies. He feels Steve tense, his thrusts becoming shallow as he gives over to his own release and Tony swears he’ll change his ringtone to Steve’s final groan because that sound is just too good to not hear all the time. 

Steve’s arms are trembling slightly as he slips himself out of Tony and disposes of the condom. He flops back on the bed and reaches out for Tony who snuggles up next to him without a word. “I feel like jelly,” Steve pants, his heart still racing. “I can run thirteen miles in an hour and be ok, but even just this, with you, it’s… it’s just so overwhelming.”

Tony hides his smile against Steve’s chest and tries to think of a witty response, but fails because he’s still recovering too and if he opens his mouth, something dumb and sappy will come out.  
“I know you probably aren’t much for pillow talk,” Steve fills in and Tony tenses against him, worried that Steve is disappointed. “It’s ok,” Steve says, “I don’t care. I’m not usually either.” And Tony lets out the breath he was holding and presses himself even more firmly against Steve. “I just,” Steve struggles, “I gotta say… You know… this might not make me better. The one time, you know. I mean… I appreciate it, what you just did for me. But now every time I look at you, I’ll know exactly what I’m missing. And I think that’ll be worse than before. I don’t want to make you feel bad, none of this is your fault. And really, if I’m going to die, I’d rather have this experience to show for my life.”

Tony bites his lip because he knows he has to talk now and it can’t be something witty or asshole-ish, it has to be something real and honest. “Steve, I…” he pauses and takes a steadying breath. He moves away from Steve so he can sit up and look him in the eye. “Don’t think I did this because you are dying and I want you to live. I mean, I do, and like, yeah, ok that sounds dumb, but what I mean is that I would have done it whether or not you were dying. I mean, I’m a playboy I do it with anybody who’s willing, but no–that’s not what I want to say right now, I’m not even sure I am a playboy anymore really, ugh fuck this is ridiculous. My point is… You said you loved me. Well. I…” Tony rubs the back of his neck nervously and grumbles, “I fucking love you too.”

Steve is silent and Tony can’t look at him and it all feels awkward and gross and Tony can feel the snark building inside him, but he doesn’t want to say something that he’ll regret so he bites his lip and tries to wait. But Steve is so goddamn silent and there’s just nothing but weirdness in the air and Tony can’t hold it in so he blurts, “I mean, love is just a word anyway, and who wouldn’t love Captain America, I’m sure there are so many soccer moms now who will love me just because you love me, I really should have tried to exploit this sooner for the publicity, you could be my ticket to world adoration–”

“Tony,” Steve cuts him off sharply and sits up to get closer. He caresses Tony’s shoulder and wills him to look up. When Tony finally meets Steve’s gaze, Steve just shakes his head and smiles. “You talk too much.”

“Well, I’m too much of a lot of things, Cap, that’s something you’ll just have to get used to and if you can’t, we should just call this off right now because–”

Steve covers Tony’s mouth with his own and kisses him deeply. He pulls away a little and whispers against his lips. “Shut up.” 

Tony kisses him back for a minute and then pulls away again. “So…Are we going steady now? Do I need to give you a pin or something?”

Steve just shakes his head and lays back. “Call us whatever you want, Tony. As long as there’s an us, I don’t care what makes it official.”

“Well, obviously Facebook would make us official,” Tony says smartly.

Steve grins and grabs his arm to pull Tony down on top of him. “You can tell Facebook later.”

“Oh god, Steve, you do not TELL Facebook things, do you even understand how the internet works? Oh God, I just had sex with a grandpa!” Tony rambles as Steve trails kisses along his collarbone and chest. 

“Mmm,” Steve hums into his ear, making Tony shiver. “Do you want to do it again?”

Tony holds back a moan and quips, “Well, it is good to help the elderly.”

Steve chuckles and Tony certainly does not shiver or become a melted, hopeless mess of desire. And when they fuck again, it is certainly not like making love. And afterwords when they cuddle and Steve mumbles, “love you” against his hair, Tony does not sidle closer to him and mumble back, “love you too.”


End file.
